


The Royals and The Assassin

by Walkinthegarden



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Assassination Attempt(s), Brother/Sister Incest, F/M, Gen, Heir, Prince of the North, Princes & Princesses, Princess of the North, Queen Sansa, Queen in the North, Sansa's Children, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-28
Updated: 2014-05-28
Packaged: 2018-01-26 20:58:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1702313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Walkinthegarden/pseuds/Walkinthegarden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone sends an assassin to kill Sansa's daughter. Will they succeed?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Royals and The Assassin

It was a dark night in Winterfell, yet somehow warm despite the late winter weather. The halls were barren of people, sent away to their chambers by the girl king… except one. The strong Free Cities man was cloaked from head to toe in dark boiled leather. He had a dagger in his hand, gleaming in the dim torch light.

 

He approached the door that held his target with certain and quiet steps. He hesitated for only a moment before entering the room and closing the door behind him.

 

The chamber was rather simple compared to his target’s birth status. There was a dark wooden vanity in the corner and a large bed in the other with a trunk at it’s edge, other then that the room was empty. But he didn’t pay much attention to that, instead focusing on the girl asleep in the bed. She looked nothing like he had imagined. The disgraced Lannister daughter had described a cunning little witch with a pretty face and cracked blue skin. For the life of him, he couldn’t imagine this girl asleep before him as anything other then sweet. She had light white skin that looked as smooth as milk glass and a mess of fire ringlets. She looked too innocent, too perfect to be what the Lannister woman claimed.

 

Taking a deep breath he pulled back his dagger, ready to bring it down into the girl’s heart when she opened her eyes. He froze in place as she sat up on her side, the furs falling to reveal her naked arms and light sea foam night shift made of silk. Her eyes were the Stark gray, wide and innocent as she blinked at him. She didn’t scream or speak for her life, her eyes never even drifting to the dagger.

 

He couldn’t do it, he couldn’t kill her.

 

“I am Princess Elena of the North, may I ask who has ordered my death?” she asked quietly, all the training of a future Queen boiling to the surface.

 

“I—” he began just as her door opened. The assassin froze as Prince Robb, son of the girl king, stepped into the room. The boy said nothing, not a sound as he closed the door behind him.

 

“Elena?” the prince asked, his eyes never leaving the dagger unlike his sister.

 

“I am alright Robb,” she assured him, easing the young prince some.

 

“He has not harmed you?” he asked, walking towards her with practiced steps, the boy’s eyes never breaking from the assassin.

 

“No brother, he has not,” she soothed, placing her delicate hand on his chest as he slipped a protective arm around her waist.

 

“Who are you?” the prince asked smoothly, easily focusing on the assassin with his beloved sister in arm.

 

The assassin did not answer. His name meant nothing to them, they wanted the name of the Lannister daughter and he was not stupid enough to give it to them.

 

“You have a family,” the girl stated, not a hint of question in it.

 

“Return to them, collect them up and run away, here to Winterfell if you’d like. We care for our people both new and old. The Commander of our Queensguard stabbed our grandfather in the leg… we forgive when forgiveness is due,” the boy destined to inherit the throne said simply, cautiously.

 

Why hadn’t they screamed? Why hadn’t they yelled for the guards that would have appeared from the walls? Stories of Winterfell could not be exaggerated because the stories were truth. The children and the Queen were protected with a fierceness not found in others. Stories of the kind and beautiful princess had spread quickly through the lands, dazzling children and enchanting the Lords. They spoke of her as if she was a girl blessed by the gods, protected and loved with the sweetest smile and the most musical laughter. The stories of the boy were also told often. The young Prince of the North was said to be his namesake in every way, young, gallant, and brave with a love so strong for his people that he would rather throw himself in front of a blade then allow harm to come to them. These were those children, the ones knights from all over bent the knee to, the ones that could command an army to slit their own throats and would be obeyed. The assassin had placed these stories aside as fictitious when given the mission to cut out her heart, but looking at them now he understood they were true. All that was needed was a word from their lips and he would be dead before he could ever hope to react. So why hadn’t they?

 

It was then he noticed what he should have the minute the prince had appeared. Why was he visiting his sister’s bedchamber at night? Most brothers would have called out to the guards the minute they saw an intruder but he didn’t, as if death was a sacrifice worth taking to protect some greater secret. Why did he hold her close instead of shield her from danger?

 

The answer was clear when the assassin looked into the princess’s beautiful Stark eyes.

 

They were in love. It was the fatal flaw the stories left out.


End file.
